Sleeping Alone
by sohhkb
Summary: A what if? of Seperate Bedrooms.
1. Chapter 1

Sleeping Alone

A What If? Of "Separate Bedrooms"

_She would miss the long amusing conversations in bed with Rhett when the ember of his cigar glowed in the dark. She would miss the comfort of his arms when she woke terrified from dreams that she was running through cold mist. __Suddenly she felt very unhappy and leaning her head on the arm of the chair, she cried. –Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind_

As the tedious first nights alone turned into weeks alone, visions of her husband enjoying other women's beds forced their way into her restless mind. Meanwhile her own bed was considerably empty and so very cold- much like his demeanor towards her. He spoke to her very little, and ceased to quarrel with her- except when he laughed with pleasure at her stupidity. He never came home except to tuck Bonnie in to sleep. Supper waited for him on the table and was thrown out nightly, uneaten. Rhett's frequent absence worried the children and made Scarlett ill with agony. At night she lay awake long after the lamps were extinguished, waiting until she faintly heard the door slam and listening to his footsteps as he entered his bedroom. Not once had he come to her! Scarlett couldn't help but hold her breath in hope that he would come softly to her door, but his footsteps never lingered except at the door of the nursery.

She hated herself for missing him so, and hated him more for refusing to buckle. She did not care to know what he did on his nightly escapades. All she knew was that she wanted him back so badly she wept- and if he knew, he would laugh.

--

Belle was not familiar with the homes of her clients. They came to her saloon, they paid her money, and they went home to their wives. Questions were never asked. Men were never eager to speak of their wives in a whorehouse. Perhaps, Belle pondered, to keep the reality of their secret (and sometimes not so secret) lives in the back of their brains. But generally, Belle never thought of her clients on her own time. She had a business to run.

Rhett Butler was another story, a story that haunted her best dreams. She very often wondered, and Rhett very often told her, what life was like in the house on Peachtree Street. He spoke seldom of the children, but vividly and uninhibitedly of his wife. It made Belle blush to hear such private thoughts and exchanges of a married couple! Sometimes when he spoke of Scarlett, Belle allowed herself to imagine that _she_ was Rhett Butler's wife, that she was the one to carry on lazy conversations with him whenever she pleased, and not just when he entered her business.

As often as she thought of Rhett when she was alone, she thought of Scarlett. Belle supposed she had always disliked the thrice married southern beauty, but she hated Scarlett even more when she was forced to hear Rhett's drawling voice speak with such devotion of everything she did and said. That woman was not worthy of Rhett's worship! She was cold and heartless, refusing Rhett more children and shoving him from her bed. …Still, she couldn't hate the woman _so _much for that act, because it was what caused Rhett to inquire upon Belle's company. But she wished he wouldn't talk so much about Scarlett.

One night, as he lounged on her chaise, she asked him to describe his home to her. He described her of the gaudy decorations Scarlett insisted upon, and the grand red staircase and the crystal chandelier.

"I'm told," he chortled, "that in a certain light my home looks just like your place."

"In that case, it sounds perfectly tacky, Rhett." She laughed with him.

"Just the same, I always wanted to see where you lived," she mused, and he watched her over his drink, grinning with secret agenda.

"Have you? Well, that's that." And he downed his glass and stood. "I shall show you my humble abode- this very minute. Don't you try to say no. "

"But Rhett- It's not fittin'!" He shrugged recklessly.

"You know I don't give a damn about my reputation, Belle. It's pitch black out, besides. We'll take your carriage." It was pointless to refuse. Rhett had made up his mind. Mirroring his shrug, Belle covered her face with a hood and left Bridget in charge.

--

Scarlett padded down the hallway, her bare feet scuffing against the carpet. The big clock on the wall struck two in the morning. He was always home by quarter after. She paused at the top of the stairs, playing out the scene in her mind. She would be waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, looking as pretty as she could be in her nightgown. He would be surprised, naturally, and she would laugh at him and call for him to come to bed. She blushed to herself when she thought what might happen next. Scarlett descended the remaining stairs and, shaking with fearful anticipation, gripped the rail post. When she heard the clop of hooves outside she fought the urge to fly up the stairs to the safety of her room. Instead she pasted the sweetest smile on her face as the doorknob began to turn.

"I'm thinking I shan't go in, Rhett. What about your wife?" A woman! Scarlett stiffened and her stomach churned. Rhett had brought a woman home! She was going to faint.

"My wife doesn't give a damn, and what's more, I don't give a damn. You are coming in for a nightcap and I will usher you out when I see fit." Rhett's voice. The door was open now, and they were coming into the house. Scarlett glimpsed unnatural red hair as the two people were framed in the doorway. And then there was silence except for a shrill gasp Scarlett knew had not come from her.

--

"My God," choked Belle, and Scarlett's emerald eyes snapped to Belle's face so quickly she felt like she'd been slapped. Belle's cheeks burned red of embarrassment. It wasn't natural for a woman of her age and profession to be embarrassed, but she figured this wasn't a natural situation. She felt like she'd been standing there for years. Neither Rhett not Scarlett had said a word. Belle tore her eyes away from Scarlett's blazing ones to look at Rhett. He stood as still as if he was made of stone, but then he glanced at Belle, visibly steeled himself, and broke the silence.

"Scarlett," he began calmly, closing the door behind him and slowly advancing towards his trembling wife. "I don't believe you've ever properly met Belle Watling." His eyes were guarded, as if he was prepared for his wife to suddenly lunge at either one of them. But Scarlett was so rooted to the spot that Belle would have thought she'd died had it not been for the shaking. Belle found her voice.

"I was only comin' for a nightcap, Miss Scarlett- Mrs. Butler, I mean." Scarlett gave no indication of having heard what had been spoken to her. Belle wanted to wave a hand in front of her face.

But then Rhett reached for his wife's elbow and Scarlett snapped out of her shock. She shoved Rhett away with such sudden force he stumbled. Belle stared incredulously at him.

"Get out," said a small voice. Belle had to strain to hear it. "Get out," Scarlett said again, whispering. Belle nodded her head obligingly and looked up, but Scarlett hadn't been speaking to her. Her delicate face was trained on her husband. How young she looks, Belle thought. She looks like a child.

"Get Out!" Scarlett screamed abruptly, and both Belle and Rhett jumped at the force of her voice.

"Scarlett," began Rhett, and he reached for her, but Scarlett pounded on his chest weakly. Belle lowered her eyes when Scarlett began to cry.

"Get out! Get out! Get out get out!" she sobbed. "Get out," she cried weakly, and she sank to her knees. "Please," she sobbed. "Please, Rhett." Her thin arms snaked around his legs and she hid her face. "Please," she wept, muffled. Belle began to back out of the house. It wasn't right for her to be seeing this. Her back hit the door and she felt blindly for the doorknob. She wished Rhett would look at her before she left. She wished he would tell her that she hadn't just ruined his marriage. But Rhett did not look up. Rhett was staring down at his humbled wife. He couldn't even see Belle anymore. "Please," Scarlett said again, more clearly, and she looked up into his face. Belle knew, and wondered if Rhett knew, that Scarlett was no longer begging to be left alone. She was begging for something deeper. Belle couldn't place it, because she had never been married or loved.

Before she turned to leave, she watched Rhett pick up his wife under her arms as he would his daughter and delicately start up the stairs.

Later, when she sat in her carriage alone, Belle cried into her hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Belle was surprised when he came to her the next morning. She took one look at his face and knew that he had slept very little the night before. She led him to her private rooms without asking and he closed the door behind them. Then he dropped onto a cushioned chair like a dead weight. Belle thought of how handsome he looked when he was distraught.

"Well?" she asked him, after a long silence. "What happened?" She perched on the edge of the bed. Rhett rubbed his face with his palms.

"I brought her to bed, Belle. She cried herself to exhaustion. I don't think she even knew I was there."

"Does she want a divorce?" Belle probed. She had been dying to know. She did not know what she hoped the answer would be.

Rhett smiled then, but not with gaiety.

"No," he said solidly. "No. But I might."

--

Scarlett woke with a start. The nightmare she'd had was real. Her head hurt and her heart ached- and where was Rhett? He was sitting in the chair when she'd last seen him.

On second thought, she was glad he wasn't there. She didn't think she could ever show her face to him again. What an embarrassment she'd made of herself! And in front of Rhett's whore! She was certain the news would be all around town by noon.

She wished she could go back to last night and make herself stay in her bed. She wished she had never misled herself into thinking he might want her. How could Rhett bring that woman into the home where his child was born and where his wife slept a hundred feet away?

She kicked the coverlet away and got out of bed. She couldn't be here when he returned. She couldn't let him laugh at her and call her the fool. What a mistake it was to allow her heart to pour out!

--

Belle could only stare. What could Rhett possibly mean- _he _wanted a divorce?

"I don't understand," she admitted finally. How could he think to do such a thing after Scarlett had reacted to last night with such pain?

"I threatened to divorce her once before, Belle. What happened last night was the last straw. I am tired of our making miseries of each others lives. It's my fault. I shouldn't have coerced her into marrying me in the first place. She never loved me." Belle could hardly believe her ears. Rhett Butler, always right and self assured, always the one to say 'I told you so', was in the wrong.

"Don't be stupid, Rhett. Didn't you see the way she looked at you? Didn't you hear the way she called your name? God help her, she doesn't deserve you. But she sure as hell loves you."

Rhett's mood swiftly transformed. He sat up in his chair and laughed at her, and Belle wanted to slap him.

"Scarlett isn't capable of love, Belle. She is a jealous child, and she craves attention like she craves her brandy. No, that wasn't love you saw. That was adulterated greed and a passion for dramatics." Belle's face flushed the color of her hair. She could kill Rhett Butler right now! Why, if this was the kind of man he was every day, she had a bit more sympathy for Scarlett.

"Just because I never wore a ring on my finger doesn't mean I don't know love when I see it, Rhett. Women know these things. Don't you laugh at me!" But he chuckled just the same, and Belle turned away in disgust.

"I'm sorry, Belle." He reached for her hand and gazed earnestly into her painted face. "You are my closest friend, darling. I respect your opinion. I do. Maybe you're right. You always said I made decisions too quickly." He pinched her cheek. Belle lowered her eyes, avoiding his swarthy stare. She'd melt in his arms if she let herself. But she knew what he needed, although it pained her to think it.

"Rhett Butler," said Belle, kindly and firmly, "Go home to your wife. You'll be sorry if you don't."

--

Rhett closed his eyes and remembered the feeling of her arms around his knees. He felt her weak body in his arms as he carried her to bed. In his mind he watched her cry herself to sleep again and again. How could he have thought those emotions weren't real? She loved him! She loved him and le loved her and he would do anything in the world to make their marriage right again.

"Scarlett," he called when he opened the door to the house. He wanted to take her in his arms and make her say it. He wanted to hear the words coming from her lips. "Scarlett," he said again, and he bounded up the stairs. He entered her bedroom without knocking and found it empty. The bed was perfectly made as if no one had ever slept in it. Rhett swore. He needed to see her.

"Miss Scarlett ain't here, Mist' Rhett," said Pork when Rhett stormed back into the hallway.

"Well, where is she then?" Pork ducked his head.

"She went out, Mist' Rhett."

"Out? Out where?" But Pork would not answer him, even when Rhett threatened.

"Damn you!" He paced the hallway, tearing his fingers through his slick black hair. "Did she at least say when she would return?"

It was no use to question the servants. Scarlett was gone.

--

She tiptoed into the house as quietly as she could. It was long after dinnertime. The children would be asleep, and if it were an ordinary night, Rhett would be out.

But there was light flickering in the parlor. Scarlett cursed under her breath.

As carefully as she could, she went back out, softly closing the door. Ashley and Melly would take her in for the night!

She had resolved to never cry for him again, but as Melly's thin arms went around her shoulders and her soothing voice filled her ears, Scarlett sobbed. Rhett hated weak women. She was sure he hated her.


	3. Chapter 3

Scarlett had not come home for dinner. The children, pleased to see their father back at the table, hardly noticed the absence of their mother. Rhett was jovial and loud, and the children laughed and played. They would not realize there was anything wrong. Unless, of course, Scarlett never returned.

After the children had gone to bed Rhett sat up and waited for her. He was sure she'd return for the evening. Her retreat had been a hasty one- nothing other than the dress she was wearing had gone missing from the closet.

He thought of what he would say to her when she returned. No doubt she would be very angry and distraught. He would put his arms around her and kiss her and apologize. She would struggle, but then she would give in to him.

It made Rhett very sick to think that for one horrible confused moment he had thought of leaving her- his beautiful wife, his life, the mother of his child. She deserved to be as upset as she was. Rhett had brought a woman home with him. Worse, he had brought Belle home with him.

She did not know that when he was with other women he could not force her out of his mind. She did not know that sometimes he cried out her name.

Once, Belle had brought him a girl with black hair as dark and thick as Scarlett's and with eyes so piercing like hers that he screamed at the whore and sent her away without payment. When the girl had left he vomited the contents of his stomach.

Eventually, drunk and feeling very sentimental, Rhett climbed the stairs and slept alone in her bed.

-

The moment Rhett glimpsed the look on her face he knew Scarlett had taken refuge there. Melanie's cheeks burned from embarrassment and nervousness when she saw that it was him. Rhett tipped his hat to her, glancing past her into the hallway of the house. Scarlett could not be seen- but then it was early in the morning yet.

"I've only come to collect Beau for a play date," Rhett supplied, smiling tightly out of pity.

-

She did not bother to be quiet on her way into the house. It was midday and Rhett would be at work. _Or elsewhere_. That thought rose bile to the back of her throat and Scarlett swallowed fiercely. At least she would have until dinner to think of what she would do. She had been wearing these clothes for two days, and she desperately needed a bath.

She nearly screamed when Rhett stepped out of the blackness of the hallway as she ascended the stairs.

"Scarlett," he said, and his voice was not unkind. She looked away.

"I've come to visit the children," she told him, turning past him into the nursery. It was a lie. She had not thought once of the children in her plight and he knew it too, but she could put distance between them. He would not discuss such matters in front of the children.

She was not surprised to see Beau with her own three. Melanie had told Scarlett that Rhett had come by and took Beau with him. She had also foolishly and loyally declared herself to Scarlett's side- should Scarlett need siding. Scarlett thought fleetingly, that Atlanta would finally be against Rhett, not her. Some would say she deserved it, she supposed. Perhaps she had. She would never admit it.

"Mother!" Bonnie flung herself in her mother's arms. Wade and Ella chorused hello, but hung back. "Mother, daddy's stayed with us all day to play!" Bonnie's big blue eyes sparkled with happiness, and Scarlett held her closer. If worse came to worse, she would still have Bonnie. She was, after all, a piece of Rhett.

"I see that," Scarlett replied, glancing at the man filling the doorway.

"Will you play too?" It was a silly question. Scarlett had never the patience to play with her children. They bounced about from activity to activity and Scarlett could scream with frustration. But Wade and Ella watched her, vaguely hopeful.

"Your mother slept at my house last night!" Beau's boyish voice interrupted the momentary silence, and all three children turned to him. Behind her, Scarlett heard Rhett shift his weight.

"That's right," agreed Scarlett, false cheerfulness in her voice. "Miss Melly and I stayed up talking all night and it was too late to go home!"

"Mother, I want to stay at Aunt Melanie's!"

"Me too!"

"Me too!" Bonnie tugged indignantly at her mother's dress.

"Sometime soon," Scarlett promised abstractedly. "I'm going to take a bath."

"Me too," Bonnie agreed, refusing to be left out once again.

"No, Bonnie. You stay and play, like a good girl. You had a bath yesterday."

"No I didn't. Daddy didn't make me. I want to have a bath with you!"

"No," said Rhett, so sudden and deep that Bonnie and Scarlett turned to stare. "Do as your mother says, Bonnie. Play with your new dolls." Bonnie's eyes narrowed. She regarded her father for a moment, not used to being scolded.

"I don't like the one with red hair. Get me another doll, daddy. With black hair, like me and mother." Scarlett could have laughed.

"Good girl," she said, and she kissed her little girl's warm chubby cheek.

-

She could not remember the last time they both had been in her bedroom together. He moved to sit himself in a chair, his features hard. Scarlett set her jaw, preparing herself for his harsh words.

"Come here," he ordered her. Hardly giving her the chance to react, he yanked her by the arm and she fell to her knees in front of him, her hands coming out to rest on his thighs for support. For a split second in her position her body hummed with warmth. It had been so long since she had been passionate with her husband.

But then she thought of the other women he had bedded- all of those women whom Rhett had touched and teased. And she remembered how foolishly pitiful she had been, clinging to his legs on the stairs. With newfound rage, she looked up into his face.

"I hate you," she spat at him.

"You love me," he told her, and he crushed his lips to her own.


	4. Chapter 4

**This final chapter was co-written by sohhkb and PrincessAlica.**

"You love me," he breathed when he let her go.

"No," said Scarlett vehemently. "I love someone else, you know I do." But there was a hollowness in her voice for the words she had spoken were not true. She did not love anyone else. She had never known such love as the love she had for Rhett.

She stood awkwardly, momentarily unbalanced as she pushed against his body. And she stumbled away from him, trying without success to bring her breathing back to normal.

"You love me," repeated Rhett more firmly as he reached to grasp her wrist. He gripped her arm so tightly it turned blue.

"I don't," countered Scarlett. Her cheeks burned from anger and desire. Her green eyes met his black ones, challenging. She would not give up. She would make him pay for humiliating her and humbling her- and in front of a whore, no less!

"Damn your pride," said Rhett, letting her go. He almost smiled. She stepped back when he raised his hand, but he only loosened his cravat. For a moment he seemed to relax in the chair, but Scarlett steeled herself for battle.

She fumed in silence as he sat, saying nothing. She could not read his mulled expression. Finally he sighed, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"Well, I suppose then, that it is done, Scarlett. We'll get a divorce. I'm tired of fighting you. Go ahead and try to take your honorable Ashley. It won't be quite as quick or as easy as you imagine it to be. You do still have his wife to consider in the matter."

She stared at him, aghast, as he sat quietly and comfortably in the chair. She had never known Rhett to give up with so little fight. Rhett never gave up! Rhett never got less than what he wanted- wasn't their marriage proof of that? Finding no words to counter, she stared at him, so calm, so collected while her mind reeled.

Rhett slowly rose from the chair. He smoothed the imaginary wrinkles from his clothes and took a step towards the door.

"Wait!" she cried, before she could stop herself. Startled by her own outburst, she bit her lip so that a crimson line appeared. He turned to her, a faint glimmer of something she could not recognize in his eyes.

"Yes, Scarlett?" Rhett questioned. "Did you need something?"

Her eyes grew wide as she stared at him. Tears began to form. This wasn't what she had intended. How suddenly the tables had turned! At the very least she had expected him to apologize. No, Scarlett decided, he would not get away that easily.

"Why did you bring her here?" she cried, her words coming out more shrilly than she had intended. He did not answer- he only looked at her. His eyes bore no shame, only cold. "Why did you bring that- that _creature_ into our home where our children live?"

"Are those tears in your eyes, my pet? Surely not, that must be a trick of the light." She screamed wordlessly at him in frustration, swiping at her eyes with the back of her palms. He took a step towards her, sensing her true distress.

"Scarlett," he said, not unkindly. "You must have understood that when I said I'd find comfort elsewhere, I meant it."

Anger flared in her eyes. "But you brought that woman into our home!"

"I many have brought Belle home with me, but you brought Ashley Wilkes into our bed. You are not some innocent victim." And then, more to himself than to Scarlett, he said, "Belle told me I was wrong, but I was right. You only love your precious Ashley." He spat the words out, as if they tasted vile.

For a moment Scarlett was confused, her tears forgotten. She had never even dreamt of bringing Ashley into her bedroom. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, my dear, that every time you were in my arms, you were imagining that it was he who was holding you close. Don't try to deny it. A man knows when the woman he loves is wishing for passion with someone else." His words were cold and harsh.

"But I wasn't thinking of Ashley." she cried without thinking. The truth hung in the air for a long moment as they stared at each other. Finally, he spoke.

"Then, who, pray tell, were you thinking of?" His words were quiet but his eyes were loud-- angry, hurt, scared-- she saw every emotion pass through his eyes in a single second. They seemed to cry out to her, _One last chance, Scarlett._

She took it. Giving in was as good as winning, she decided—no, it was better. In the end, it got her Rhett.

"You," she whispered. And before she could think about his reaction, he was next to her and scooping her up into his arms. He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her lips, and she was crying and saying, "You, always you," and he was repeating over and over, "My darling, I'm sorry, so sorry." And between kisses he murmured, "I love you," into her hair, and she found herself saying it back. He gave out a hoarse whoop and she laughed and he swung her around the room.

When he finally set her down and they stopped to catch their breath, he said to her, "I suppose you'd like to take your bath now."

"Why Rhett Butler," she cried in mock outrage, "You mean to tell me that you won't finish what you started?" He laughed at her and she grinned impishly.

Rhett's lips met Scarlett's, and time stood still.

**For more information on the continuation and inspiration for this story, as well as my other stories, please visit my profile page. **


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